Passions Unspoken
by Lillibetm3
Summary: Rated M for a reason. NineRose. Sexual content.


**PASSIONS UNSPOKEN **

**Part 1**

**Night**

The Doctor didn't sleep much -- he didn't need to; but lately he hadn't even been able to rest. He'd lie awake in his bed, his mind fevered with thoughts that he couldn't control and wasn't sure he wanted to.

In the begining it had been simple, innocent, he had wanted to show Rose worlds that would make her eyes grow wide, and her lips curve into that smile - that perfect smile. It was only later that he realised there was more to it than that. He began to understand why he was filling their waking hours with worlds that leant themselves to one perilous exploit after another. He began to admit to himself that he was grateful for the distraction adventure gave him. It kept his mind focused, too busy to stray into dangerous thoughts of Rose... and of what he wanted to do to her. Yes, for every day filled with jeopardy he was very thankful. It kept him sane, and when the day was done; the latest in a very long line of evil alien threat having been overthrown - he could smile at her and laugh with her. He could even hold her -- if he was careful.

It was at night the insanity possessed him like a malevolent spirit. It mocked him for his weakness and yet it pushed and lead and dragged him toward her -- toward Rose. At night she was in his blood and his head, she was all he could think of and even the gentle hum of the TARDIS could not soothe him.

He would walk the corridors, passing the door to her room too many times. He would try to bury himself within the beating heart of the TARDIS. But it was never enough to stop the longing, the desire; and soon enough he would find himself back in the shadows of his room, falling onto his bed and giving up, giving in. All choice removed.

Once there, he would move restlessly in tangled sheets as the weakness of his flesh burnt with want and need. At first he would try to push away the thoughts that crept into his mind during those dark hours -- but they allowed him a release; and each night it was becoming easier to convince himself that he wasn't doing anything wrong.

After all it was all in his mind, his desires were safe enough there, locked away where she could never learn them. In his mind he could make love to her all night. In his mind she would let him.

He could almost imagine that the torn gasps he heard his breath make were really Rose's crys as he moved against her warm body. He could almost imagine that his hand, holding tight around his hardening shaft, was her hand. He could almost imagine the darkest of thoughts and deeds.

It was only when he finally thrust upwards into nothing, lost in his desire that he would cry out her name and break the spell. His eyes flashing open, his hearts exploding, his seed shooting worthlessly into sweat soaked sheets. That was when he would fall back into cold reality. That was when he would lie staring up at the ceiling of his room, his breath still ragged and broken, and know without a doubt that this was wrong, that he had to stop. He would swear that this time, this time was the last time, the very last time. But he knew he was lying.

**Part 2**

**Want**

He didn't know how long he had stood under the constant pouring water of the shower. His understanding of time had left him -- abandoned him to his fate. He wasn't surprised. He was fallen, made wretched for the want of a human, no more than a child, a girl, an innocent. He could not understand how it was she held such power over him. He was enslaved.

He stood with his lean arms braced against the clinical white walls, his fingers splayed out like stars, his eyes closed tight against the universe, the ice cold water cascading over him. It ran like tears down his face, trailed down his back, twisted across his taut stomach and followed the line of his legs until it pooled around his feet and then away, exhausted by the journey. But he knew that even washed clean, he was far from pure.

How this once mighty Time Lord had fallen, brought to his knees, broken, cursed by the want of his flesh. He was no more than an animal controlled by primitive, carnal need. Urges which his people had turned their backs on generations ago, ravaged through him like a forest-fire. So many enemies had plotted his downfall and failed. Yet his ruin had come to him in the form of a nineteen-year-old human. He had not thought to protect himself from her, but he had not known her lips were poison and would lead him into madness. He wanted to burn in the fires of Hell for his sins, his needs, his desires.

His people hadn't believed in Hell. They had looked down their noses at other _lesser _life-forms, who held such wild beliefs as Heaven, Hell and all other impractical fantasies. How ironic then, that they had thought themselves almost God-like in their wisdom, their intelligence -- their arrogance. He, on the other hand... he had seen evil and darkness in all its forms. He knew that Hell existed, hidden away in some lost corner of flesh and skin and bone and... _soul_. If there was such a thing. Of that he was less certain. Oh yes, there were flames, they tortured his flesh with desire he could not quell. The demons he carried within him like a cancer tormented him at every opportunity, and controlling them was becoming more difficult.

He wanted to touch her, oh so very much. He wanted to take her, lie her down on his bed and undress her so that he could allow his ardent gaze to feast upon her. She would be beauty to his beast. He wanted to move his body above hers and slide into her warmth, hold her down, claim victory and prize all at once. He wanted her to scream under him, her eyes wide, her mouth open, her body his. He wanted that. So much. Too much.

There was a constant darkness within him that he loathed to admit had always been there. He had lived lifetimes blindly pretending it did not exist. He had almost convinced himself of his lie, until it woke within him and reminded him that no matter how much he hoped, it would not die. It belonged with him. Like Marley's chain.

Desire knew his secrets, his weakness, and it played to them. His head filled with Rose, her laughter, her scent, her voice. Oh the things that she whispered in his head... it was no wonder he was sinking into madness. He wanted so much to take her. Just take her. To swallow her down like medicine to cure his suffering. Sometimes he wasn't sure that he would care if she protested. He wasn't sure it would matter. He wanted to believe that if she refused him, he would be able to stop. He wanted so very much to believe that.

The cold water burnt into his flesh but did nothing to extinguish the fire which consumed him. So it was with a low groan of damned surrender that he let one hand move to finish the job his mind had started.

He threw back his head, feeling the throb and pulse of his blood surge in his veins as he filled and firmed with each relentless stroke of his hand. He slid his thumb repeatedly across the eager head. The first creamy beads of pre-cum already there, already lubricating his fingertips. He could smell it. With sub-conscious thought he moved his hips forward. He leant into the wall, away from the cold damper.

His mind filled with Rose and he cried out, his senses almost overloaded.

He pictured her kneeling before him, her chocolate-brown eyes lifting to stare up at him, temptation in their depths. Her smile so rich with promise. Her parting lips. Her soft breath and the heat... oh the heat, as she opened her mouth to take him inside and licked and sucked. Greedy. Hungry. Each time taking more of him, deeper, deeper, deeper still.

He imagined her golden hair fallen loose, soft as it brushed against his thighs and he thought of how much he wanted to push his hands into its softness, his long fingers twisting around blonde tresses. Holding her there, her face held sure as he stood on the brink, watching her brown eyes widen in sudden surprise at learning the taste of him, then no longer caring and swallowing, swallowing, swallowing as... oh. Oh, oh, ohhhhhhhh.

He gave a strangled gasp and shattered. His hot cum shot from him violently as his hand squeezed punishingly tighter. He was destroyed. The pictures in his mind too much. Too vivid. Too fantastic.

Breathlessly he leant back against the tiled wall of the shower. The icy water hit his stomach and he sucked in a breath at the assault, but did not move. Instead he let the water trail downwards, washing away all evidence of the act, leaving only his shame behind.

He had played this game too many times now -- he knew that. It wasn't enough any more. It had never really been enough. But the addiction was as deep as the craving.

He wanted to push fingers inside her and hear her whimper. He wanted to have her beg and plead for mercy and give her none. He wanted to watch her unravel and come apart under him. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to lap at her core as she pooled into a warm moist orgasm around his lips and tongue. He wanted. He wanted. He wanted Rose.

**Part 3**

**Touch**

The Doctor pulled on a pair of well-worn black jeans over his long legs,tugged the zip up and fastened the cool metal button. His body was still a little damp from the shower, droplets of water trickled down his toned chest then traveled downwards to his taut stomach; where they crept under the waistband of the jeans.

Trying to clear his mind, he pushed his hands through his cropped hair. The cold shower had helped some, but he was a long way from being _cured _of what ailed him. He knew that. The creature within him wanted to feed on warm flesh, hot breath and dark passion, not... not thrown handfuls of cold dead meat. It was little wonder that he was left unsatisfied.

He groaned darkly and began pacing his room like the caged animal he was. He didn't know how much longer he could go on like this. The need was consuming him and he knew that if he did not find a way to control it, he would become dangerous, to himself, to others... to Rose.

He cocked his head, his body becoming still, listening to a sound he had only half caught -- something out of sync with the constant hum of the TARDIS. He waited; it came again. A cry. He set off towards Rose's room, still only half dressed, still barefoot; still with droplets of cold water hugging possessively to his body.

Reaching Rose's door he hesitated, his fingers closed around the handle -- somehow he was unable to take the next step. He lifted his other hand to the door, placing the palm flat against the metal and then leaning in close to it. He put his forehead against it and closed his eyes, waiting, helpless... afraid. Perhaps he'd been mistaken. His mind had played tricks on him before, perhaps this was just another game of insanity.

The sound came again and the Doctor's eyes snapped open. His name. She'd called his name. There was no mistake. He'd heard it. Slowly he pushed open the door and stepped into the silken darkness of the room beyond.

The soft light from the corridor allowed him to glimpse Rose, asleep on her bed, before he closed the door and walked a little closer. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark almost instantly. He could not look away from the vision before him. Her long blonde hair was loose and lay tousled across her pillow. Her sheet had been pushed downwards as her body had twisted through dreams, and the cream silk excuse for a nightdress she wore had ridden up. The Doctor's gaze trailed up her slender legs until it reached her thigh, where the hem of her nightdress lingered, tormenting him and saving him.

He swallowed and looked away, but quickly his attention returned again to Rose, as she whispered his name on the velvet air between them. She moved cat-like under silken restraint as again his name fell from her full bloomed lips. She was still asleep. He knew that. Why was she dreaming of him? He moved closer, making no sound that might disturb her. His gaze narrowed and he watched her intently.

She whimpered now, soft sounds that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his mouth go dry. Her hands moved through her dream, clutching at the bedsheets as her hips lifted up and she arched off the mattress.

He was spellbound by her. He moved to stand at the side of the bed, his shadow falling to cover her lithe body in ways he knew he could not.

Small gasps of pleasure now. He swallowed hard. One thin strap had slipped down her shoulder and the silk nightdress had moved lower, revealing the curve of one breast, its dark areola crowned with a small nipple, already formed into a perfect peak.

He could not look away, and unable to stop himself he reached out and cupped her breast in his hand, his cool fingers caressing her warm skin, his thumb slowly stroking across the rose-bud nipple, oh so gently arousing it. For too long he let himself fall into the soft cries she made in her sleep, then somehow he found strength to pull away, understanding that the line between right and wrong had become blurred.

He returned to take his place behind the red ropes, knowing that he had trespassed. He tried to hate himself for what he had done, but all he really knew was how much he loved her.

He watched her for only a moment longer, then turned and left her to her dreams.

**Part 4**

**Silent**

He couldn't risk losing Rose as they ran, so he held on to her hand tightly, pulling her along behind him. He knew that she was already breathless, but they couldn't stop -- not yet. They had to get to safer ground before the first explosion.

They skidded down a rocky bankside, away from the road. They tumbled forward and somehow the Doctor lost his hold on Rose as they fell. He heard her cry out as she landed on the uneven earth, and he found her in the darkness just before the night sky lit up with flames and the booming sound of their success.

He came up next to her, covering her body with his as the fine shower of debris began to fall. Luckily they were a good distance from the explosion and the fires, not as far away as the Doctor would have liked, but they were safe enough. The only concern he had was that the guards would find them -- hence the running. The trucks had been on the road, but the Doctor was reasonably convinced that they'd dodged the patrols.

The scorched, burning smell was heavy in the air and there were other smaller explosions that followed the first -- a chain reaction. Plenty to keep the iron fist busy. He hoped. But then he heard the trucks roll closer. They were on the road above them. Not good.

Rose's eyes widened and he knew that she'd heard them too. They had slowed, stopped. Doors opened and a patrol began its search of the area. Again, not good. Not what he wanted for Christmas at all.

Rose opened her mouth to ask if they should make a run for it, no-doubt, but before she could make a sound, the Doctor put his hand over her mouth and shook his head. Telling her everything she needed to know with his eyes. Stay silent, stay still, hide in plain sight, let the darkness swallow them up. No noise. No sound. Hush, hush, hush.

The Doctor shifted his weight a little, pressing her into the soft cool earth as her wide eyes stared up at the flames in the night sky. He tried to concentrate on the noises at the road side, the sounds that would tell him where the patrol was. If it was safe. He tried. He tried.

The smell of her was everywhere, filling his thoughts. He watched the fluttering pulse at her throat and shuddered at how it affected him. Sometimes he wondered how it was she didn't know how much he wanted her. Then he realised that right now, alien or not, Rose would know what his arousal felt like, what it meant, and that not one word of blustered denial would save him. He had to do _something_, and so he moved a little, hoping that it would be enough. It wasn't. It wasn't nearly enough.

He saw realisation fill her eyes, heard her soft gasp of surprise smothered under his hand, and then... Rose Tyler _arched_ under him. She shifted her body to accommodate him. Her hand moved between their bodies and her fingers pulled down the zip of his jeans, releasing him, touching him. Silently telling him _exactly _what she wanted from him. For a second the Doctor's mind reeled from the shock of her movements under him. The fact that she was leading the way through the dark -- never would he have believed... hoped. He licked his lips, still staring into her intense brown eyes. He would follow, wherever she lead, he would follow.

Search-lights shone over head, a couple of times they came close to the spot where the Doctor and Rose were lying, and when that happened the slow movements that the two bodies made in the darkness stopped, as though held in time. Then the beams of light would shift, and they would continue their games of torment.

The Doctor's hand slid up Rose's thigh, pushing the material of her skirt up, up, up. He found her ready for him and with one firm push he was inside her. His eyes closed for a moment, as a surge of pleasure swept through his body just from being held so tight. He'd never imagined... He opened his eyes again and gazed at Rose._ His _Rose. Then, never looking away, he began slow precise thrusts in her. Each movement telling her that he wanted her, needed her, desired her. She gasped under his silencing hand, her eyes wide and filled with fire as he pushed deeper into her. Her fingers were touching him at each withdrawal from her, and he knew that he would not last long.

Above them on the road they heard the trucks engines begin to start, growling and roaring, then pulling away, driving off. Leaving them undiscovered.

The Doctor's long fingers found Rose's clit, rubbing, circling, teasing, stroking it into bliss. He began to move his body faster, knowing how close he was, how close they both were. Climbing, climbing, climbing. Enough. Finally enough. He poured into her as she broke apart under him, falling back breathless. He lay on top of her, their spent fluids running together like a warm ocean.

He moved his hand from her mouth now and kissed her, kissed her, kissed her. The silence had been his friend for so long, but he belonged with Rose now. He wanted nothing more that to take her back to the TARDIS, where he would lie her down on his bed and do such things to her wanton flesh that she would scream for him, and he would glory in its sound.


End file.
